Phone Call
by EmeraldFire512
Summary: In which Melissa decides that maybe her ex-husband should know about this incident. Or, maybe she just wants to punish Scott for coming up with such a terrible plan. Tag to 4x09 (Time of Death). A McCall family story. Added: Agent McCall finds out the truth (plus, Stiles).
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Teen Wolf. Likely I never will. **

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"I have to call your father,"

Scott stopped in the process of pulling on his shirt to stare at his mother, bewildered.

"What? Why?"

"Because you were dead, Scott. Your father would want to know."

"But I'm fine, so no need to have that worrying him, right?"

"Sorry, no,"

"Mom! I wasn't even," Scott stopped to check that they were indeed alone in the room, "you know," he almost whispered the last word, "dead."

"I know that. You know that. Your father doesn't know that."

"But…"

"No buts. If you are going to go through with such a _terrible_ plan then you had better be prepared to deal with the fallout."

"But Dad will never know."

"Scott, this is Beacon Hills. It's not that big, and your father lives here now, Besides, do you really think no one is going to talk about it? Dr. Geyer wans you in tomorrow to run some tests because he wants to know why you were officially dead. You have an official time of death, Scott. Do you really think your father wouldn't find out?"

Scott sighed, but he knew that his mother had a point, There was no way around this. As he resumed the process of pulling his shirt on, Melissa pulled out her phone and dialed Raph's number with a sigh. She really did not want to do this.

As she was dialing, Dr. Geyer came in to ask if he could check over Scott one more time before he went home with Melissa.

Melissa stepped out of the room and stepped into a vacant staff lounge as she waited for her ex-husband to pick up the phone. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard a sleepy voice bark "Agent McCall" into the phone.

Huh, She hadn't realized how late it was.

"Raph, it's me."

"Melissa? It's almost 1 in the morning, is everything okay?"

"Yes. But, I, ah, wanted to tell you that Scott was brought to the hospital a few hours ago, but everything is fine now."

"What happened? Melissa, are you sure he's okay?"

He sounded awake now.

Melissa took a deep breath and began to discuss the case clinically.

"An ambulance was called shortly before 9 tonight, and he was admitted into trauma as non-responsive, and not breathing with no discernable heartbeat."

"That…sounds like death. But, he's okay?"

"Please let me finish Raph, this isn't easy."

"Sorry, go ahead." She could hear the anxiety in his voice.

"After being admitted into the ER, doctors tried to revive him, but were unsuccessful. They called time of death at 9:02 pm, and informed me. His – he," (she had almost said his body, but couldn't manage it), "was moved to the morgue where an hour later he was all of a sudden awake and coherent. No one knows what happened, but he's alive now, and he's fine. The doctor's giving him a once over and then I'm taking him home. There was silence on the other end of the line. She could tell that he was gathering his thoughts.

"Who called the ambulance?"

The question took her by surprise.

"Stiles," she responded. She didn't know the actual story, but she would make sure that Stiles would cooperate her story later.

"Were they together when it happened?"

"No, Stiles came over to the house and found Scott unconscious in his room. He called 911 and did CPR until they arrived." She would really have to make sure Stiles knew what version of the story he was supposed to be telling.

"Was it an asthma related thing?"

Asthma, That was a good reason, She had almost forgotten that he was supposed to have it.

"Maybe. Probably. We're going home tonight, and I'm bringing him back tomorrow for some tests."

Another silence, and when another question came it was with less professionalism than before, "Melissa, are you sure he's oaky?"

"I am."

"And, are you okay?"

She hadn't been expecting that. This, she answered honestly, "I'm shaken and exhausted, but as long as he's okay, I'll be fine.

She heard another deep breath on the other side before he spoke again.

"I'm going to head back tomorrow."

Again, she was caught by surprise, "But, I thought you had more to take care of at headquarters."

"I do, but I can finish it from Beacon Hills. I took care of the formal stuff today."

"Alright, but only if you want to. I can handle it on my own, you don't need to be here."

"But you shouldn't have to. I'll head back tomorrow as soon as I have a chance to talk to my superiors. I should be back by the afternoon."

"Who are you and what have you done with my ex-husband?"

She heard a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "I'm trying to be a better man, remember?"

She responded with a chuckle of her own. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah," was his response, but she sensed there was more he wanted to say, so she waited. After a few moments of silence, he began, "Melissa?"

"Yes Raph?"

"Can I…talk to him? I know you said he's alright, but if I could talk to him…"

Melissa smiled to herself, "Just let me get back to his room."

* * *

Rapheal McCall sighed heavily and ran a weary hand through his hair as he leaned back in his bed in his San Fransico apartment as he listened to Melissa's footsteps as she carried the phone to the room that held his son. He couldn't believe that this had happened. If this had been a year ago, he probably never would have known. The thought of never finding out made his stomach twist into knots of discomfort. Which, considering the news he had just gotten, he wasn't surprised. He kept replaying Melissa's explanation in his head, _"time of death was called at 9:02 pm."_

Raph had been eating dinner and catching up with a friend from work at 9. He had been talking about Scott. He had told his friend everything from the PSAT CDC fiasco to the fact that he was the captain of the lacrosse team. He had mentioned that his girlfriend had been killed in a car jacking a few months ago, and that he had a job in the local vet's office. He felt chills run down his spine as he thought about the fact that during any one f those stories, Stiles could have been trying to give his best friend CPR while waiting for an ambulance and that his son was being rushed into a trauma room and pronounced dead before being wheeled into the morgue. He felt a hitch in his breathe every time he thought about it.

Distantly he heard Melissa talking to the doctor and tell Scott that his father was on the phone, and wanted to talk to him. He heard the shuffling of a phone changing hands and shook his head as if to clear his mind. When he finally heard Scott's greeting, he felt a crushing sense of relief.

"Hey Dad," he son said, sounding uncomfortable.

He's okay. He's really okay.

"Hey Scott. Anything new?"

He heard him laugh quietly and Raph smiled and gave a small chuckle as well.

"No, not really."

"So I hear. But Scott, are you really okay?"

"Yes Dad, I'm fine. _Really_."

He said it with a slight hint of exasperation, like he had been saying it all night. He probably had.

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied sincerely, "and, it looks like I won't have to worry about missing any of your games after all, because I'm going to be able to head back to Beacon Hills tomorrow. Things wrapped up sooner than expected here."

"Dad," Scott replied with a hint of exasperation, "I know you're lying, You're coming back because you're worried, but I'm fine. I swear."

"Scott, I want to come back. Really. So, I'll see you tomorrow?"

He heard his son give a sigh (and probably an eye roll) before he responded, "Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow." Maybe it was all in Raph's imagination, but he thought that maybe he didn't sound _too _upset about it.

"Alright," he responded, "I'll let you go now. I'm sure you probably want to get home and go to bed. And, Scott," he added as an after thought, "I love you."

"I love you too Dad. Good night."

"Night son." And with a smile, Raph hung up the phone. Tomorrow he would see his son and make sure that he really was fine. And once everything had settled down again, (or as much as it ever did in Beacon Hills), he would have a much needed conversation with his son in which he hoped to get some much needed answers.

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**So, I know I should be working on things I've started, really. But, since the time I last updated anything (and let's face it, it's been _a while) _I've come to love Teen Wolf. Especially the dynamics between the characters Hence, all of the stories. So, let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**A/N: Well, I wasn't sure if I wanted to write another chapter or not, but since it looked like people were actually reading it, I figured I might as well. Please let me know what you think at the end, including if you think I should continue. With that said, enjoy!**

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Raph paced through the living room of the house. He had been too late to head to the hospital with Scott and Melissa; talking to his superiors and tying up loose ends had taken more of his time than anticipated. So now, here he was. Waiting.

The longer he waited, the more worried he got. If not about Scott's "incident," then about the talk they were going to have. Raph knew he needed answers, but the more he thought about his questions, the less he was convinced he wanted them.

Just as he was starting his 14th lap of the living room, he heard the front door open. After taking a moment to gather himself, Raph turned to walk towards the entry way, mentally prepping himself to see his son. But as he turned the corner, he saw not his son's dark, sloppy hair, but a head covered in close-cropped hair of a much lighter brown.

Stiles paused in the act of walking towards the stairs.

"You're not Scott," he said after a moment of uncomfortable staring.

Raph barely resisted rolling his eyes, "neither are you."

"And since you're down here, looking expectant, I'm going to guess that he's not home."

"No, he's not. I guess he and Melissa must still be at the hospital."

"Ah," Stiles responded, tensing up ever so slightly, "I take it you've heard then. About last night."

Raph nodded, "Melissa called me."

Stiles nodded, glancing around awkwardly.

"Well," he said, after a few more moments of tense silence, "I'll just, go then."

With another glance at Raph, Stiles made to turn towards the door. Raph watched him leave, before – cursing to himself – he spoke up, "wait."

Stiles stopped, turning around to look at him curiously.

"Stiles, you don't have to go."

The boy continued to at him, a baffled expression on his face.

Raph continued, "I mean, you came over to see Scott, and I can understand that you're probably just as worried about him as I am. I mean, that can't have been easy, coming over here and finding him unconscious in his room."

Was it his imagination, or did Stiles look confused? Though honestly, the simple fact that they were having a civil conversation confused Raph a little bit too. He decided to ignore it, and move on with his (horribly jumbled) speech.

"Melissa told me that you were the one to call 911, that you did CPR until the ambulance got here. I wanted to tell you that I'm grateful, and impressed. It takes a lot to stay cool in a situation like that."

Finally Stiles seemed to get some clarity, "Oh," he started awkwardly, "yeah. It was no problem. I just, you know, did what I had to do."

Raph shook his head. This kid baffled him sometimes. Well, he actually always had, really. "It's not simple Stiles," he tried to clarify, "it's impressive, and I'm trying to say thank you."

"You're welcome, I guess" Stiles responded, with a slight edge to his voice. Before Raph could inquire about it, Stiles seemed to decide to save him the trouble, "But I didn't do it for you. I did it because I care about Scott, and I don't know what I would do if I lost him. He is one of the most important people in my life, and I need him. "

The outburst struck Raph as the most honest thing Stiles had ever said to him, and Raph could appreciate the feeling. Still, he was surprised by how simply Stiles had been able to form that idea. It had taken Raph a lifetime to so succinctly speak about how much he cared for someone like that. The fact that Stiles, at the age of 17, had already figured out how to voice it, was…strange, and concerning. It all went back to what he had told Scott. The things that happened in this town, they didn't seem to faze the kids like they should. He studied Stiles for a moment, trying to figure out where to go next.

Under the gaze of his best friend's estranged father, the normally outspoken and brash boy seemed uncomfortable, as if he realized how much he had give away with his outburst. Before either of them had a chance to speak again, the uncomfortable silence was broken by the sound of the front door opening again.

The sound of Melissa and Scott benignly arguing over something undetermined drifted in after them and come to an abrupt stop as then come upon the two visitors in their living room. The four stood in silence for a moment before it was broken by Melissa.

"Stiles," she began, turning her gaze from her son and ex-husband, "would you mind helping me with something. In the kitchen," she finished pointedly.

Stiles looked at her in confusion for a moment before he seemed to understand all at once and sputtered a response.

"Right, of course. No problem," he said before practically stumbling out of the room after her.

Rather than commenting on the subtlety of that exchange, Raph decided that he would thank Melissa later. This was going to be awkward enough without an audience.

The two McCall men stood in silence in the living room. Scott had resumed their usual practice of looking anywhere but at each other, but Raph decided differently. In a few steps he had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around his son. Scott looked up in surprise, but made no move to break the embrace. After a few moments of savoring the feel of his son, alive and breathing, in his arms, Raph stepped back, leaving only his hands on Scott's shoulders. He looked him up and down anxiously, as if looking for a visible mark of the ordeal of the last day.

"How are you feeling," he asked Scott anxiously.

Scott rolled his eyes at his father before answering him in the same matter as the night before.

"Dad, I'm fine, _really_."

"Are you _absolutely _sure Scott? Things like this don't just happen for no reason. Did they ever figure out what happened?"

"Not definitively, but they figure that it probably has something to do with the asthma."

Scott wasn't looking at him, Raph realized. In fact, he was being very careful to look anywhere else. Raph decided there was more to this, and decided to press until he got the truth. Or, at least something close to it.

"Scott, even if you're fine physically, something like this has got to have scared to you. I mean, you woke up in the morgue. That has to be terrifying."

"It was scary," Scott responded, "but I'm fine, and everyone was happy about that, so I'm glad that happened."

Raph shook his head, but didn't press any further. Clearly he wasn't going to get anything else out of him right now. Maybe after their talk, he would. He gazed at his son awhile before speaking again.

"Scott," he began, "when your mother called me last night, I was terrified. The thought that something had happened to you was almost too much for me to handle. Regardless of the mistakes I have made in my past, and I know there have been a lot, I love you and your mother very much because we are still family. I know that there is something going on in this town, and I know that you are involved with it. I even think it has something to do with what happened last night. And I want to know what's going on with you, I want to help you. But Scott, I can't do that if you won't tell me what's going on. So, please, will you tell me?"

Scott finally met his eyes, but still didn't say anything. After what seemed to Raph to be an eternity, Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I guess," he began, "it would make things simpler if you did know."

Raph started to speak, but Scott held up a hand to stop him, "I know you're not going to like a lot of it, so I need you to promise before I tell you anything that you will not overreact, and that you will wait until the end to before you decide to do anything about it. I also need you to keep in mind that this does not only affect me, that there are others involved, and you agreeing to not over react has to do with them too. Okay?"

There was an authority in Scott's voice that had never been there before, as well as maturity. Scott felt responsible for these other people involved that he had mentioned. As someone who was often in a position of authority during dangerous incidents, Raph recognized this sense of authority. Seeing it in his 17 year-old son however, was another matter entirely. Regardless, Raph needed to know what was going on.

"Alright," he said with a nod, "I promise."

Scott didn't look relieved by his words. "Okay," he started, "Right. Well, there's no sense in me telling you by myself, and since Stiles in just as involved in all of this as I am, it only makes sense that he should be here too."

With that Scott turned towards the hallway before shouting, "Mom! Stiles! Can you guys come in here please?"

Within moments Raph could hear the sound of approaching footsteps as Stiles and Melissa crossed the threshold into the living room. They looked at the pair in the living room with trepidation before Stiles decided to break the silence.

"So," he asked casually as he leaned against the archway into the living room, "did you finish your awkward emotional talk or do you need us to subtlety disappear again?"

Scott glared at his friend while Melissa smacked him on the back of the head, causing the teen to exclaim in pain.

Raph interjected before Stiles could make another jab, "actually, yes, we have. No Scott is going to explain to me what has been going on around here and he wants you to help him."

This effectively shut up the young Stilinski, who instead turned to stare at Scott incredulously.

"He promised to listen until the end and not do anything until he has heard the whole story!" Scott said defensively.

Melissa looked at Raph, and then to Scott. "Scott," she said, "are you sure?"

Raph found himself looking at Melissa. She knew? She was in the loop? He wasn't sure it that made him feel worse, or better.

Scott nodded, "yeah, I'm sure."

Stiles snorted and headed over to the couch, plopping onto it.

"Alright dude, but it's your funeral."

Scott rolled his eyes and smacked his friend's legs off of the couch so that he could sit down next to him. Melissa gave him a pointed glare as she sat down in a nearby chair.

"Oh," Stiles said sheepishly upon spotting Melissa's look, "too soon?"

"Definitely." She responded with a huff.

"Sorry."

Raph sat down in the other chair, looking at them all with puzzlement and bemusement. For the beginning of a potentially very serious discussion, they seemed unfazed.

Once everyone was settled, they all looked at each other awkwardly before Raph decided to break the silence, "So, who wants to begin?"

Scott looked at Stiles haplessly, "So where, do you think we should start?"

"With the body, obviously. That's where it all started after all."

Raph couldn't help himself, "Where what started? What is going on?"

"I think," Scott began, "it would be better if we went from the beginning. We," he paused to gesture to Stiles and himself, will answer questions as we go, but for that one it is probably better is you wait. And Mom," this time he looked towards Melissa, "there are going to be things you've never heard about too, just so you know." She nodded and gave Scott a small smile, and he continued.

"So, it was the night before the first day of school, our sophomore year. I was getting ready for lacrosse practice the next day, when I heard something outside. I was home alone, so I grabbed my baseball bat and when to go check it out."

Raph had to almost physically stop himself from trying to chide Scott for doing something stupid. Stiles noticed and cringed. If he couldn't get through this without wanting to reprimand, how the hell were they going to get through the bad stuff?

"Turns out," Scott continued oblivious of the silent exchange happening before him, "it was Stiles. He wanted to tell me that he had over heard his father getting a call about a body in the woods, so we decided to check it out."

Scott paused, as if waiting for a reaction from his father, but Raph was trying very hard to control that particular urge. Slightly surprised, Scott continued.

"So we drove to the nature preserve, and wandered around, looking for the body. Eventually, the Sheriff caught Stiles when he tripped and spooked a police dog, but I hid behind a tree because I didn't want to get in trouble. So I started to wander back out, because I knew I was going to have to walk home now. As I was walking, there was a stampede of deer that almost trampled me but did succeed in making me fall down a hill. I lost my inhaler, and as I was looking for it, I heard something growling behind me. I turned to see what it was, and all I could see were yellow glowing eyes. I tried to run, but it was too fast, and it attacked me. I did manage to get away, but not before it bit me. I ran out to the road, almost got hit by a car, and then started to walk home.

Raph couldn't contain it anymore. He wasn't going to be strung along on some bad sci-fi story. Real, dangerous things were happening, and he needed real answers, not some story about glowing yellow eyes.

"Do you _really _expect me to believe that?" he asked Scott, trying to conceal as much of his anger as possible. "Seriously, yellow glowing eyes? This is not the time for jokes Scott."

Stiles set his jaw and looked like he was about to rise up to punch him (that alone would have been enough to shock him. Stiles had pretty much always hated him since the divorce, but physical violence was new), but Scott but a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder and gave him a reproachful look. Raph looked at Melissa for support, only to find her jaw set as much as Stiles'. She could not seriously believe that malarkey too, could she?

Before he, or anyone else could say anything, Scott stood up, effectively getting all of their attention.

"Dad, I am telling the truth. I know it's hard to believe, and I would have liked to tell you before I showed you, but I think you're going to need some evidence before you're willing to believe anything."

"What, do you still have a scar from the bite or something?"

Scott gave a grim smile, "not a scar, exactly, but yeah. Something like that." With that, he closed his eyes.

Before Raph could ask another question, mainly what the hell was going on, he felt the words die in his mouth.

Because when his son opened his eyes, they glowed red.

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**A/N: What do you think? More? Leave it there? Is the conversation too awkward of forced? Are the characters right? Am I completely wasting my time? I want to know! (i.e. review, por favor) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it, nor will I. **

**A/N: So, I was writing this, and it kind of took off on it's own. You'll see what I mean when you read. Let me know what you think of the direction this is going in, and as always if you spot anything that needs fixing. Also, so many reviews last time guys, I loved it! Keep 'em coming!**

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Raph jumped out of his chair, nearly upending the table next to him in the process. He slowly backed away from the small group gathered in the living room, his mind whirling.

His son's eyes were glowing. Not only were they glowing, but they were red.

"What…" he began, "How..." he couldn't form a coherent thought.

"What the _hell_ is going on?!" he finally managed.

"I'm a werewolf." Scott said simply, blinking again to return his eyes to their usual shade of brown.

"But…" Raph started again. But what? Werewolves weren't real? Monsters didn't exist? Where were the hidden cameras?

"But it's not a full moon."

Wow. Raph cursed to himself. That was really what he was going with? Judging by the pained grimace on Stiles' face, the teen was thinking the same thing.

Scott looked uncomfortable. "Well, it doesn't really matter that much actually. I mean, it's harder to stay in control on a full moon and I'm stronger then, but I can shift at any time."

Raph sat down again, still reeling. "So," he tried to think logically about this (though he was pretty sure that this defied all logic), "if you were bitten by a werewolf, that means there's another one out there?

"Well, there is more than just one."

"How many?"

"A lot."

Stiles jumped in (Raph was surprised he had stayed quiet this long), "Not to mention banshees, kitsunes, werecoyotes, werejaguars, kanimas, wendigos, etc etc."

Raph shifted his gaze back to Stiles.

"So, what are you then?"

Stiles looked surprised at his question. "Me? Just human. Well, I was possessed by an evil spirit – and were talking like seriously _evil_ – a while back, now I'm just regular old me."

Raph rubbed his temple. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Evil spirit. Sure, why not?" Suddenly, something occurred to him, "Wait, does that have to do with you disappearing, and the ninja swordfighters and all of that?"

Scott was the one to answer, "Yep. All that and Barrow, coach getting shot with that arrow, and…" he paused momentarily, and when he spoke again, there was much more sorrow in his voice, "and Allison's death."

Stiles flinched at the last part and when Raph looked over at him he could see Stiles resolutely looking at his hands, and nowhere else. He could hear eh sounds of Melissa getting up to go to him, but before she had fully left her seat, Scott had his friends hands in his own, forcing Stiles to look at him. "Stiles," Scott said roughly, "it is not your fault. None of it. You were in control, and the Nogitsune wasn't even the one to kill her. "

"But the Oni did. And I was in control of them." Raph was taken aback. He had never heard the voice the usually hyperactive teen so laden with guilt and sadness. Sadness yes – a very long time ago – but never guilt of this magnitude.

"You were not in control of them Stiles! The Nogitsune was. And the Nogitsune wasn't you. How many more times to I have to tell you that no one blames you, so you shouldn't either." Scott terse voice was laced with anger and desperation now, but he stared at his best friend with something like fear.

"Allison is dead, because of me. If I hadn't let the nogitsune in, she would still be alive."

Scott sighed and spoke more softly, "You don't know that Stiles. Nobody does. And Allison wouldn't blame you. She would say the same thing."

Stiles took a deep breath and Raph was floored to see tears threating to leave the boy's eyes. When he had told Scott that things didn't effect the teenagers of this town like they should, he had meant it. But now to see Stiles, the kid who had so sorely tried his patience as the first friend Scott had ever brought home from school grappling with the very real and intense problems of guilt and grief, he say that while in some ways he was absolutely certain he was right, in others he may have miss read the situation.

He thought back to a few days before, when the school had been under quarantine and he had been forced to kill the proctor who seemed intent on killing Stiles. He remembered how he had been puzzled by Stiles' apparent acceptance of his fate. All of a sudden, some pieces fell into place, and Raph felt a new sense of horror rise up in his chest that had nothing to do with the fact that his son was a teenaged werewolf.

"Stiles," he said suddenly, shocking all everyone into looking at him, "a few days ago, when I found you with the proctor, he was telling you that if you didn't tell him something, he would kill you. You…didn't seem to bothered by that. Honestly, you seemed pretty accepting. Were you…" Raph faltered, not wanting to say what needed to be said. He tried again, "Were you hoping to die?"

He could hear Melissa's chair creak as he leaned forward and Soctt's sharp intake of breath but all of this was on the periphery, his attention was focused solely on Stiles.

For a moment, the typical Stiles attitude return. "No," he exclaimed, "of course not!" Before I asked a follow up question he continued, in a voice more reminiscent of the broken, quiet one that had shocked me a few minutes before, "But, I couldn't give him what he wanted. I just knew I couldn't be responsible for any more deaths. If I had died protecting you," with this he turned to face Scott, "You, Malia, and Kira, it would have been a good death. I would have been proud of myself. And I knew for sure that I wasn't going to let him anywhere near you."

Scott looked at his friend with sad, weary eyes, "It's not your responsibility to protect me."

"Yes it is Scott!"

Raph was pleased to see some of the old Stiles spark return to him.

Stiles continued, ignoring every indication that Scott wanted to interrupt, "It is my responsibility, just like you feel it is yours to protect me. Who protects the protector Scott?"

Scott didn't seem to have an answer to this, so Stiles continued, his voice quiet and heavy with pent up emotion, "Scott, I don't know what I would do if you died. I know you protect us all not just because you feel like it's your responsibility, but also because you don't want to deal with the loss. I know you would do borderline insane things to protect me, and I'm asking you to let me do the same. I don't ever want to see you die Scott, so if I can do anything to stop it, I will. And I know you would do the same, so get off your high horse and stop telling me it isn't my place or responsibility, because it is."

The two boys looked at each other, sharing a silent conversation, and hopefully an understanding. Raph looked over at Melissa to see her watching the boys with tears in her eyes. Upon noticing his gaze on her, she wiped her eyes before turning to look at him with a tight smile. "Raph, " she said aloud, "will you come help me in the kitchen? I think I'm going to make some hot chocolate."

Raph stood up to follow her out of the room, leaving the boys to finish their conversation alone. Before he exited the living room, he paused in the doorway and turned to address Stiles once more.

"Stiles," he said hesitantly, "I can't pretend to understand what's going on here, not yet, but I do know you. I know that despite the fact that your sarcasm and rudeness know no bounds, you are a good, caring person. Whatever it is you think you are to blame for, I can guarantee that it wasn't your fault."

The boy raised his head from it's downcast position to look Raph in the eyes. "How do you know that?" he asked in a hollow voice.

"Because you couldn't kill someone." He said with an air of finality. He was about to walk away when he stopped again to add one more piece to speech, "especially not someone you cared about."

Without looking back to see the effect his words had on the Sheriff's son, he exited the living room to find Melissa in the kitchen.

As he turned the corner, he found her leaning on the doorway with a sad smile.

"Thank you," she said to him quietly as they moved towards the kitchen.

He looked at her, confused, "for what? For picking up your oh so subtle hint that he we should leave them alone? Also, could you really not come up with a better excuse than the kitchen, again?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "No, not for that. For what you said to Stiles." She opened a cupboard and removed four mugs as she was speaking. "Ever since Allison died," she continued, pulling out cocoa powder as she went, "we've all tried to talk to him. Myself, Scott, John, Lydia, Deaton, even Chris" at his confused look she elaborated, "Allison's father. Any ways, I just don't think it's really done any good. It's like he thinks that were telling him what he wants to hear because we care about him. But I think he might actually listen to you."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because of the fact that you two have never gotten along."

Raph raised his eyebrows, "so let me get this straight, you're thanking me because you think he thinks I don't care about him."

"Well, not exactly" she replied looking slightly confused at what he had just said. "I think you telling him that will help because you are unattached from the situation and the people involved. You are the objective observer, so you saying what you did validates what we've all been saying all along."

Raph nodded, finally understanding what she was trying to say. Maybe.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sinking into one of the stools in front of the counter.

"Is it always like this?" he asked wearily.

"Not always," Melissa tried to reassure him, but he forced smile twisted into something closer to a grimace, "actually, sometimes it's worse."

"Like last night."

"Yes, that would be one of the bad ones." She affirmed with a sigh.

She finished stirring the last mug of cocoa and set down the spoon, turning her attention to her ex-husband.

"Raph, I know this is a lot to take in – believe me – but you need to hear them out. They will explain everything. You just need to be patient. Can you promise me that you'll hear them out?"

He looked at Melissa for a moment, really looking at her for the first time in a while. She was careworn and exhausted, but in spite of it all, he eyes still held their usual intense look that bespoke tenacity, which she had always had in droves. What ever it was that she and Scott were going through, he owed it to them to at least understand it.

"I promise," he said simply.

She gave him another smile and took two of the mugs in her hands.

"I'm going to take these to the boys, can you grab ours?"

He nodded in affirmation and watched as she walked away. Once she had left the room, he sighed again and looked at the clock about the stove. It looked like he was in for a long evening.

He stood up, took a deep breath, and grabbed the two remaining mugs before heading back towards the living room.

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it. I'm pretty please with the direction it went in, regardless of my plans. It does, however, mean that this story will no be longer than I had anticipated, so hopefully I can wrap this all up soon. I'm hoping to get this done by the season finale because I'm pretty sure Agent McCall is going to show up at some point in that episode, if only to wonder why the hell everyone's going to Mexico on a school night. I'm really please with the response this has gotten, and I'm hoping to hear peoples' thoughts again!**


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